"And thar,"
sweeping his hand at a blackened heap of logs lying on the stones,
"thar's whar Nell Tyler and her baby was sculped."
"Poor Nell," said Polly Ann, the tears coming into her eyes as she turned
away.
"And Jim Tyler was killed gittin' to the fort. He can't say I didn't
warn him."
"I reckon he'll never say nuthin', now," said Polly Ann.
It was in truth a dismal sight,--the shapeless timbers, the corn, planted
with such care, choked with weeds, and the poor utensils of the little
family scattered and broken before the door-sill. These same Indians had
killed my father; and there surged up in my breast that hatred of the
painted race felt by every backwoods boy in my time.
Towards the end of the day the trace led into a beautiful green valley,
and in the middle of it was a stream shining in the afternoon sun. Then
Polly Ann fell entirely silent. And presently, as the shadows grew
purple, we came to a cabin set under some spreading trees on a knoll
where a woman sat spinning at the door, three children playing at her
feet. She stared at us so earnestly that I looked at Polly Ann, and saw
her redden and pale. The children were the first to come shouting at us,
and then the woman dropped her wool and ran down the slope straight into
Polly Ann's arms. Mr. Ripley halted the horses with a grunt.
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